Page 34 of The Maleficent Faerie
“Correct. The Royals are your parents.”
“Fuck them,” she snaps.
I raise my eyebrows, but I don’t reply. She’s going through a range of emotions I can’t possibly fathom. Once she processes her new familial connections, she’ll realize what else her identity means.
Ididcapture the cursed Princess. My triumph is real this time. At long last, I have the one girl who might be able to save us all.
But will she listen to me? Will she be able to hear what I have to tell her, about herself, about my plans? About the curse that will steal a hundred years of her life?
She’s pacing the floor, hands fisted. “I couldn’t experience the Surge. Why? If I’m to be the Conduit—why?”
“The Conduit comes of age at twenty-five, as you know. Until that time, the Surge would be experienced in the usual human way, as a flood of joy and hope. But you were blocked from feeling that, because of the rings the Three Faeries gave you, and because of the way the visceral glamour interfered, not only with your inner self, but with your aura. That was another hint that you were different—when I tried to check you for glamours, I encountered the clumsily-reassembled pieces of your aura. It confused and distracted me.”
“And my parents allowed the Faeries to perform this visceral glamour on me, knowing it might fuck me up inside?”
I want to soften this for her. But half-truths and gentle lies will do her no good. She must know everything.
“I can’t say for sure,” I tell her. “It has been years since I spoke to either of your parents directly. I believe they love you in their way. But this was never about you—not entirely. It was always about religious prejudice, arrogance, and power. After the curse—even before it—this was about your parents and the Three Faeries triumphing over me. It was about them winning.”
“Winning?” Her fingers go limp and her shoulders sag, her anger replaced by betrayal and grief, for the moment.
“To understand the antagonism between your parents and me, you would need to hear the whole story from the beginning, and I’m not sure you can take that right now.”
“As if you care about my feelings at all.” Her cheeks redden. “You—you cursed me. Not Dawn—me. Oh goddess—you’re going to take me to your Spindle and use my blood for your magic! And then I’ll lose a hundred years—you monster!”
Fire rages in her eyes, and she pulls herself up tall, her fingers balling into fists again. Her breasts heave against the lacy neckline of her blood-spattered dress.
I need to calm her, to soothe her somehow. And I need to rest—my wounds are healing more slowly than usual, and I’ve lost a lot of blood. The Three Faeries’ magic, when combined, is nearly a match for mine, even when they’re not physically present.
“We can’t talk about this anymore tonight,” I tell her. “I need to heal, and you need time to think. And you should eat something. You threw up what was left of your lunch.”
“I don’t want to eat,” she snarls.
“Then drink something, at least. I swear no harm will befall you tonight.”
“How magnanimous of you.” Her lip curls in a sneer. “Are you going to chain me up again?”
“Not unless you deserve it. Before I rest, I will wreathe the Chapel grounds with magic. You won’t be able to escape the boundary, but you may wander freely within it, if you swear not to harm my people.”
“If they taunt me and torment me, I will hurt them.”
“Fair enough.” I soften my tone. “Just don’t kill anyone. Remember, my men didn’t do this to you.”
She scoffs, turning away and wrapping her arms around herself. Her nails scratch restlessly at her skin.
“Does it itch?” I ask. “That can be a side effect of a forcibly broken glamour.”
“It does itch,” she admits. “But only a little.”
“Any pain?”
The look she gives me—incredulity, accusation, agony. I wince at my own foolish question. “Stay here as long as you like. I’ll let the others know not to disturb you. When you’re ready, please join us for food and drinks.” I dip into a low bow, though I fear it’s less impressive than it should be, what with the state of my body and my wings. “Your Highness.”
When I glance over my shoulder on my way out of the chapel, she is standing alone in the candlelight, her hands clasped over her heart and her face transfixed with pain.
13
This human form—it must be a glamour. This is something the Maleficent One has done to me. He’s trying to trick me…
